In the twilight, the four of them walked along endless lanes, which all looked the same. The Welsh place names on the occasional signs they saw just confused them. On top of that, the sky was clouding over quickly, it was going to rain at any minute, and all Abs was wearing was his flimsy jacket. After half an hour, he felt like they had been walking for miles, and they still hadn’t seen a soul.

‘I hope someone’s making a note of the direction,’ said Tony. ‘Because I don’t have a clue how to get back.’

‘Where’s this effing pub, then?’ Deano asked.

He swigged from a bottle he’d brought out with him and was already half pissed. Abs didn’t like Deano much. He was Tony’s mate, who had only come along to make up the numbers, and Abs found him an arrogant big mouth.

One moment Deano was treating Abs like his best mate and the next he was making some sarcastic remark about him or the show. Abs knew plenty of people like that in the telly business, the kind who were all over you like a rash one minute, pretending you were amigos, and slagging you off the next. They were users and manipulators, and sooner or later they always ended up asking for favours; for money or an introduction to someone in the business. Abs had learned the hard way that these people weren’t to be trusted.

After walking for what seemed like forever, they saw a village on the other side of a field. And not a moment too soon, because it had begun to rain. Fat drops splashed on the ground. Abs protested that his trainers were going to get absolutely wrecked walking across the mud. ‘That can’t be the only way.’

‘Come on, you tart,’ joked Tony. ‘If we don’t cut across, we could be walking around all night.’

‘I’ll carry you over, princess,’ said Deano. ‘If you don’t want to get your glass slippers dirty.’

Abs ignored him and they all climbed over a stile – the metal was freezing between his legs – and onto the field, which was covered in cowpats. That’s the other thing about the countryside, thought Abs – it stank. Mud sucked greedily at his trainers as he gingerly made his way across, trying not to slip. Beside him, Tony nearly took a tumble, and Abs had to grab his arm to stop him going face first into shit. By the time they got halfway across the field, they were all pissing themselves laughing, which was just as well, because suddenly it was raining cats and dogs.

‘Run for it,’ shouted Jez, and they stumbled across the last few yards of slick, muddy field towards the little pub at the edge of the village. It was a pretty little place, with flowers in hanging baskets above the windows, a welcome bloom of colour in the grey deluge of rain, and the warm glow of a flickering fire coming from inside. Soaked to the skin, they raced beneath the porch at the front door. Abs was soaked to the bone. His trainers were caked in mud and cow shit, and his legs, too.